The Cat Food Calamity

     You've heard the term, "Plop!  Plop!  Fizz, fizz," haven't you?  Well, that's about how I felt on the morning of my last blog post.  Remember?  That was the day I told you that I was not fond of the taste of cat food.  As a matter of fact an' after much consideration, I can truly say that I hope I never hafta' eat anything that tastes that bad, ever again.  Bleh!

     Picture, if you can, my cheerful demeanor as I stepped from my kitchen door onto the porch.  Snow had fallen the night before; the first snow of the season.  It was beautiful.  So clean an' pure.  It actually took my breath away… about one second before my feet flew up an' I did a full Body-Slam, with my face buried in cat food.

     I waited, knowing that my good hubby-buddy was watching for me to return.  As I lay on my stomach, I was certain that my hero would rescue me.  Any day, now.  This week, or next.  I was patient… more or less.  That is, until my next thought.

     "What if he came outside, too, an' we both wound up in the cat food?  Would we even be able to stand up?  I doubted it.  I began putting more effort into liberating myself from my predicament.  Believe me, it was not easy.  Between the slippery snow an' a reluctant body, jus' gettin' to my knees was a challenge.  Never mind, actually standing upright.

     So, there I was, with the latest version of 'Egg On My Face' (Yuck!) an' my arms wrapped around the railing of the porch… TRAPPED!  Whilst I huffed an' I puffed to gain an upright position, my good hubby-buddy remained indoors, oblivious to any of the current events.  As happy as I was that he din't know what was goin' on, part of me wanted to {{{{{ S M A C K }}}}} him!

     Finally, I made it to my feet an' worked my way to the door.  Curiously, with ice an' snow all over my hands an' me unable to get the sliding door open, I was forced to tap on the glass to get Hubby-buddy's attention.

     Ya' know that comment about smacking him?  Well, he took one look at my face an' his laughter instantly reinforced that emotion.  Sort of.  Actually, we both got a good laugh out of it, but in my mind, he was not getting' off so easy.    

     For the record, I dunno' who develops the flavors in pet foods, but I have a greater respect for my cats an' their preference for eating dead things, rather than the food I put out for 'em.  What bothers me most is the fact that we have bought many different kinds of food for our feline family, but they still seem to prefer the dead things.

     What about your pets?  Do they also choose to eat somethin' other than the famous brands of cuisine, found in the pet food aisles?  If so, I think you should stick to your regular diet of human fare.

     Until the next time, keep a hug on.

 ~ Yaya

Raccoon Christmas

     Let's talk about Christmas... sorta'.  I like Christmas.  Its actually my favorite holiday of the year.  I couln't tell you why, exactly; I jus' love it.  All the lights an' decorations an' it seems like people really are kinder at that time of year.  Actually, I'm drifting from what I wanted to share with you, though.  So, I'd best get back on track, eh?

     It was Christmas, a season of goodwill.  By some fortunate mistake, I was given Christmas Eve off from work.  Normally, since the shift started at midnight and was considered to be Christmas Day, I would have had to work.  However, by some stroke of luck, I got to be home for Christmas Eve, which was really Christmas Morning.  Was I excited?  You bet your sweet bippy!  It had been several years since I'd been able to be home on Christmas Eve.  I would be going back to work at midnight, but for a little while, at least, I was home for Christmas.

     We chose to open our gifts and share in the traditions that were personal to our family.  Two of my older children had received Banana Chairs as gifts and were thrilled beyond belief.  Those Banana Chairs play a very important part in this story.  After opening alla' the gifts an' enjoying a rare holiday together, everyone else decided to go to bed.  However, because I worked the night shift, it was more my habit to go to bed much later.

     I puttered around, appreciating the fact that I had been given this time off and, eventually, I did grow tired an' decided to go to bed.  That's when Christmas changed completely.

     We had light switches on opposite walls.  I was near the kitchen and flipped the switch to turn the light off.  If things had ended there, I woulda' been fine, but they din't.  I walked the clear path towards the bedroom suddenly realizing that I had not checked the front door to make sure it was locked.  Naturally, I turned to correct that error and that was my undoing on accounta' I din't turn the light back on.  Bad mistake.

     Not recalling that we now had Banana Chairs in the middle of the room, I moved in my normal break-neck speed, towards the door.  In only a couple of steps, I was reminded about the Banana Chairs, as I tripped on the first one an' tried to recover my balance.  The second chair was strategically placed so's I was not able to correct my fall.  Instead, I went flying face first, into our huge oak rocking chair.  I'm sure the whole thing din't take longer than a couple of seconds, but those were the looongest couple seconds I've ever lived through.  The noise was enough to wake the dead... I thought.

     Evidently, the Living sleep more deeply than do the dead.  When I had landed, I found myself several inches from our plastic mat in front of the door, lying on my back, with my arm draped across my face.  It must have been a very comical sight, but I wasn't thinkin' 'bout that.  Instead, I was wonderin' where everybody was.  Curiously, no one had come to my aid.  So, I waited.  An' waited an' waited.

     Finally, I realized that some encouragement was necessary.  I moaned quietly; then, waited again.  Nuthin' happened.  'Hey, people!  Someone could be dying out here!  Don'tcha' care?'

     I did the only thing I could think of; I moaned some more, this time, making sure that someone would hear me.  Sure enough, my good hubby-buddy soon poked his head into the room.  I couln't see him, of course, 'cause it was so dark.  But I could hear 'im.  He turned the light on from a third switch an' walked towards me, all the while askin' if I was alright.  When he got close enough, he took my hand... the same one attached to the arm across my face... an' started to help me up.

     Very quickly, he dropped my arm back onto my face, sayin', "Oh, good grief, Yaya.  You're all blood an' guts, everywhere."  Then, he left the room.

     'Well, that's a fine how-do-you-do,' I thought to myself.  The comment about blood an' guts had gotten my attention, though.  I carefully scooted myself towards the plastic mat.  "Scoot!  Scoot!  Scoot!"  An' before I could form any more thoughts, he was back with the medicine kit.  My hero.

     I was soon as good as new, if you don't count the goose-egg that now perched between my eyes.  Oh, yeah; an' my new Raccoon statement.  Both eyes had reacted to the force of my fall against solid oak an' I wore a mask of two very black eyes.  Someday, I 'll tell you 'bout the interesting reaction I got at work, that night.  But that's a story for another day.

     Until the next time, keep a hug on.

 ~ Yaya